Ever Since We Met
by borderfame-sabrestar
Summary: Simon feels empty, but it's not just blood he needs. He knows falling in love with her is something he'll regret forever, because he'll have forever to think about it. But you can't fall out of love. Simon/Isabelle


My first Mortal Instruments fanfic :D uses a few lyrics from the song 'Nearly Witches' by Panic! At the Disco, just a one-shot about Simon and his feelings for Isabelle. I love Simon, he's my favourite character in the series. I hope you like :)

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><p><strong>Ever Since We Met<strong>

Simon/Isobelle

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><p><em>Dès le premier jour<br>Ton parfum enivre mon amour  
>Et dans ces instants<br>J'aimerais être comme toi par moment  
>Mais depuis ce jour<br>Je n'ai qu'un seul et unique regret..._

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><p>He felt tired. Tired, exhausted, like he'd been searching for sleep and had only wasted more energy. He would feel his eyelids drooping and then a stab of hunger would rattle him, waking him up again. He groaned, gripping his shirt as he tried to ignore the pangs of hunger in his abdomen.<p>

He missed her, a lot more than he'd care to admit. He missed the feeling of her pale skin beneath his fingertips and the shimmering of the runes on her skin, he missed the way her dark hair fell like a waterfall down her shoulders, he missed the way her big dark eyes would watch his every move. Being close to her was what he missed most, because when he was with her the hunger went away.

It was the middle of the night, Simon guessed between one or two o'clock. He hadn't had a coffee for about five hours and his empty stomach was aching for something slightly less watery and something thicker, something more like blood.

_Blood._

Simon squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the urges away, clenching his hands into fists as he physically tried to push away the desire for blood. It felt like he was running out of air, his chest tight, his muscles cramping – but that was sort of ironic, seeing as he didn't need to breathe anymore. His only oxygen was blood.

_Blood._

He had run out of blood tonight but wouldn't go outside to get some more, because he was so afraid that his self control would slip, and he would do something he would regret. If only she was here, he thought as he breathed out shakily. If she were here, he wouldn't feel like this. Or at least he could ignore the feeling, this sick feeling in his stomach.

There was a small click and creak as the door to the apartment opened, and Simon rolled over, clenching his teeth and ignoring the pain as he swung his legs over the edge of the small bed that Jordan had bought for him from a second-hand shop. Folding his arms over his naked torso, Simon tried to stand up straight as he wandered out to the main room, hoping for a distraction.

Jordan was standing in the kitchen, having dumped his bag on the bench. He was pouring himself a glass of water as Simon wandered in, and he looked up and gave him a nod, and said, "Evening, Simon."

Simon replied with a half-hearted mumble, and was about to ask Jordan where he'd been when the werewolf reached to his satchel and said, "You looked like shit this morning, so I thought this wouldn't be unwelcome."

When his hand reappeared, it was holding a small packet with crimson liquid inside.

Crimson.

_Blood._

Simon lunged at Jordan, hands outstretched for the bag, fangs already out, but the werewolf gave him a quick shove in the chest which sent the vampire flying backwards, hitting the wall. While the movement wouldn't have actually prevented him from having another go, Simon was momentarily stunned and that was enough time for him to regain his senses and a certain amount of self control.

"Sorry," he said, voice rasping as he made himself look away from the bag of blood back to his roommate's face, the werewolf's calm hazel eyes watching him carefully, his tall tattooed figure in a defensive stance. "Sorry, Jordan – I – I'm just really hungry," Simon said, slumping against the wall.

"That's okay," said Jordan. "I just don't want you ripping open the bag and getting blood all over my kitchen counter. The cops will think I've murdered somebody," he grinned.

Simon tried to laugh but it didn't work. "I will murder you, if you don't give me that blood." He licked his lips, his fangs pressing into his lower lip, angrily demanding the blood that his body could smell, the deep salt and metal fragrance driving his nerves into a frenzy.

Jordan's grin disappeared as quickly as it had come, and he said seriously, "You need to stop starving yourself, you're a bloody vamporexic. You're going to binge and somebody's gonna get hurt."

"Lecture me after I've had a drink," Simon pleaded, desperately, taking a step towards him. "Please, just –"

Jordan held his hand up to stop the vampire coming closer, and he said casually, "Just let me get you a glass, okay? You might as well be civilised about it."

Simon thought of a few smart remarks to make about civilised vampires, but he held his tongue. He knew any more conversation would only result in having to wait longer. He watched with wide eyes and could feel his mouth watering as Jordan ripped open a corner of the bag and poured it into a large glass, half-emptying the bag of blood. It was only when he put the glass on the counter and stepped back did he give Simon a nod, and the vampire leapt forward and drained the glass of blood, a small drop rolling from the edge of his pale lips and down his chin as he gulped it down.

Jordan was watching him as he swallowed the blood in large mouthfuls, and Simon put the glass back down on the bench with a shaky hand when he had finished. It was only when he licked the blood off his lips that he realised what sort of blood it was. Simon stared at the blood bag in Jordan's hand, and then he glanced up at the werewolf. "That's – that's human blood," he said, voice no longer rasping. The bag had a label on it with a large 'A' on it.

Jordan shrugged nonchalantly. "I figured you deserved a treat. Besides, you have to drink human blood every now and then. Otherwise you'll go insane and hurt somebody who hasn't kindly donated their blood."

Simon frowned. "Donated? Did – did you steal this from the _blood bank_?"

"Don't sound so horrified," replied Jordan, as he took the glass back and poured the rest of the blood into it. "It's not stealing if people donated it. Besides, it's not like I stole a rare one, like AB-positive. It's a garden variety blood."

"That's not the point," said Simon, but he still took the glass back and began to drink the rest.

Jordan grinned at the vampire as he threw the empty bag in the bin. "And yet you'll still drink it."

Simon glowered at him. "Just cause I'm hungry doesn't mean I'm not morally correct."

"You're a Downworlder, and a Daylighter. Nothing about you is correct."

"Thanks for the ego boost."

Jordan laughed, and he shrugged off his jacket. "No worries, friend. Do you mind if I call it a night? I'm worn out."

Simon waved him off. "No, you go sleep. I probably won't be much fun for another few hours anyway." He always got a little on edge, like he was on speed, whenever he drank blood after a long fast. Jordan usually only gave him small bits at a time but he had been busy this week and Simon had been too afraid to go outside, and had resulted in the vampire being tortured by his hunger.

Jordan shot him one last smile before he said, "Alright. I'll see you in the morning."

Simon nodded. "And, Jordan – thanks for the drink. I needed it."

"Don't mention it."

As the werewolf wandered off to his room, Simon finished the last mouthful of blood and shuddered a little at the metallic, overwhelming taste. It made him feel sick, but his stomach gurgled happily as it greedily churned the blood. His body savoured it, his tastebuds did not. It made the bile rise in his throat, and he always felt like he was going to be sick. Jordan suggested that he mixed it with vodka to make a (literal) Bloody Mary, but Simon didn't want to make the experience any worse.

Simon leaned against the bench, and he sighed. He still felt… empty. But that was nothing to do with the blood. He actually still felt hungry, his system still keen for more blood but at least he was no longer aching for sustenance. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, gave the glass a quick rinse and left it in the sink before he left, wandering back to his room to search for sleep again.

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><p><em>How does a heart love, if no one has noticed<br>Its presence and where does it go?_

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><p>Simon heard the window clicking open but didn't leap out of bed. He should have been a little more worried about somebody coming in his window, but he felt so relaxed. He had slept through the twitching, excited muscles which were absorbing the blood, and he had some of the most strange dreams he'd had in a long time. Not nightmarish, just weird.<p>

He rolled over, feeling extremely calm in the afterglow of drinking blood, and he saw her at his window.

"Isabelle?" he said, rubbing at his eyes. "What – what are you doing, climbing in my window?"

She gave him a small smile, and said, "I was in the neighbourhood. I thought I'd drop by."

Simon sat up, and stared at her. The wind caught her hair, playing with it in the soft breeze. Her big dark eyes shone, not with fierce determination like they usually did, but a softer glow. Her skin was perfect, he could smell her – the combination of her sweet perfume and the smell of her skin and her hair, that deeper natural scent of _her._ Her elegant hands held onto the window frame, decorated with ornate silver rings, her small wrists sporting elaborate bangles and chains. She wore a tight black lacy singlet, which clung to her perfect waist and chest, worshipping her frame, and the asymmetrical black skirt floated around her long legs, and she wore those familiar high heeled boots which always baffled Simon, he could never figure out how she fought demons in shoes like those.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly, before he realised what he'd said. If vampires could blush, he'd be bright red in the face.

Isabelle wasn't expecting the comment. Simon expected her to laugh it off or simply take it in her stride as she always did. But she looked down and smiled a little sheepishly, and she said, "Thanks."

She stepped down from the window, and she took off the belt she wore which carried all of her stele, whip and daggers, and she placed it on the bedside table, before she sat down on the edge of the bed beside Simon. He watched her every move, as though he were trying to imprint the vision of her in his mind. He could smell her, even closer now, the slight layer of sweat on her skin calling out to him, the sound of her soft breaths in his ears, the sound of her beating heart in her chest.

Simon didn't feel empty, and he suddenly realised that the feeling he was missing wasn't one of satiation from the blood. It was the feeling of emptiness, of loneliness. Of being without Isabelle.

He looked up again, and saw she was watching him as his eyes scanned her. He looked down at his hands, and he said, "I missed you."

Isabelle managed a small, sad smile as she said, "I did too. Why else would I be here?"

Simon softly chuckled. She might be sincere, but she was still a smartass. He saw her hand move, and she placed it on his, and he squeezed hers gently. When she spoke again, her voice was strangely quiet. "I'm sorry we haven't spoken since – since the church thing," she said, "I was scared, and confused. And – I didn't know what to do."

"It's okay," said Simon, absent-mindedly tracing a rune he could see on her forearm. "I didn't come to see you, either. So it's not all your fault."

"But why didn't you?" she asked, and when Simon glanced up he could see that her eyes were shimmering with a desperation he hadn't seen there before. "I didn't come see you because I'm scared."

"Scared of what happened at the church?"

"Scared of you," she whispered, and Simon frowned.

He lifted his hand and gently brushed the hair from her face."Scared of me?" he repeated, "I'm not scary. I'm the most tame vampire you'll ever meet. And you know I'd never hurt you."

Isabelle rolled her eyes, and her shoulders sagged. "No, not – not scared of what you are," she said, and she gripped his hand tighter as though she was trying to physically make him understand what she meant. "I'm scared of the feelings I have for you."

Simon didn't know what to say. He was so worried this would happen. He thought that at least if Isabelle didn't like him after all, then at least she could go on with her life and he could be free from her, he could live forever and be glad that she hadn't loved him because that would make losing her so much more difficult, when she grew old and died and he stayed sixteen forever.

"Isabelle," he said, but he couldn't find the words. He let out a sigh, and as he looked up to speak to her he couldn't speak, because she had moved towards him, placing her hands on his cheeks and pressing her lips to his. Simon was frozen, but only for a moment. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her closer until she was nearly on his lap, and he kissed her with fervour and passion, the softness of her lips making him groan as he tasted her, felt her warmth against him. She was so _warm_.

He could hear her heart beating fast as he ran his fingers through her hair, and her hands traced the slight muscles on his torso. Wanting to get closer to her, Simon pulled her across him and onto the bed, rolling over to lie on top of her, pressing every inch of his body against her, kissing her lips, her neck, feeling the pulse beneath his lips. He would never drink her blood, but he could smell it and she smelled wonderful.

He could hear her heavy breathing, and wished he could breathe like that. He felt so _different_. But it was okay because she was here now and she made everything okay. He could forget about being young forever, about having to leave her here and be alone forever, he could pretend nothing bad was ever going to happen when she was with him.

He felt her muscles become slightly rigid beneath him, and he hesitated, pausing for a moment as he realised why she was worried. His fangs which had decided they were needed, since he was this close to another person's neck, and had come out to play. He lifted himself up and looked down at Isabelle, and said, "Sorry. Got a bit excited."

He grinned, and she laughed at him, her laugh a little shaky. "That's okay," she said, "I was just – worried."

Simon shook his head. "You don't need to be. I had a feed a few hours ago."

He stared at her blushing cheeks, her perfect hair, and her big dark eyes. She was so – perfect. So young. Infinitely beautiful…

No, his mind reminded him once more. This beauty is finite. It will die.

_You have set your heart on haunting me forever  
>From the start, it's never silent<em>

Isabelle must have noticed a change, because she looked at him with a concerned frown and reached up to touch his face gently with her gentle, deadly fingertips. "Simon?" she said, "Simon, what's wrong?"

Simon knew he should have told her that she should leave, that they shouldn't be together because it would be too painful when he had to leave – no, not when he left. When she died, he would have to live on without her.

But he realised then that even if she wasn't immortal, this moment was. And he didn't want to lose a memory that could last forever.

So he simply leaned back down and kissed her, letting her run her tongue over his fangs as she let him run his hands across the smooth skin of her legs, and she would gently drag her fingernails across his skin as he absorbed her warm skin, her lips, her everything.

And he could think about the rest later...

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><p><em>Ever since we met, I only shoot up with your perfume<br>It's the only thing that makes me feel as good as you do_

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><p>When Simon opened his eyes, dry and sticky from the sleep, and realised that he had been dreaming, he let out a loud, exasperated sigh and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. He could still smell her, he could still feel her warm skin… he wished it wasn't a dream. But at least it was one he wouldn't ever forget.<p>

The softest light of dawn floated through his window, and Simon buried himself away from the day. He just wished he could spend the night with her, for real, knowing that when he woke up she would be there. Just one night, that would do…

He heard a click at the window, and he quickly turned over and sat up and saw Isabelle. He frowned, opening his mouth to speak but unable to think of anything to say. She was wearing the same clothes as she had been wearing in his dream, and the soft light danced on her hair and the lines of her face as she smiled at Simon, and climbed through the window and walked over to him.

Simon was speechless as she reached down and pressed her soft, red lips to his, and then she pulled away and said, "Forgot my belt."

Picking up her belt and weapons from the bedside table, she flashed one last smile at Simon before she jumped out of his window again, and he fell back to the bed with a stupid smile on his face.

It was real.

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><p><em>Ever since we met, I've got just one regret to live through<br>And I regret never letting you go_


End file.
